


Much Ado About Schitt All

by kindofspecificstore



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: F/F, Inspired by Shakespeare, Magical Realism, the much ado about nothing au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:28:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26454922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kindofspecificstore/pseuds/kindofspecificstore
Summary: Alexis moved to The Creek years ago with her mother and siblings, and has since struck up an enemy in Stevie, owner of Rosebudd Cottage. What was once a small, isolated community is now building tourist traffic with a sprucing up of the cottage, cafe, as well as Rachel & David's rebranding of Rosewood Apothecary.Mayor Jocelyn Schitt is wary of the new funding boost that’s just been secured, thinking the Roses are building up her sweet little town for eventual gentrification. She decides to meddle with the courtship of Rachel and Twyla, the owner of the cafe. Will Alexis be able to stop bickering with Stevie to see the plot against her family? Only time will tell.Welcome to The Creek.
Relationships: Rachel/Twyla Sands, Ronnie Lee & Moira Rose, Stevie Budd/Alexis Rose
Comments: 60
Kudos: 19
Collections: Elevate! A Schitt's Creek Femslash Exchange





	1. Act 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [talkedwithnoman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkedwithnoman/gifts).



> Welcome to the Much Ado About Nothing au! Do you have to understand Shakespeare in order to read this? No! Will fans of Much Ado About Nothing still get to enjoy this? I hope so! All are welcome here. The plot loosely follows the original play, with some alterations to the Hero/Claudio (Rachel/Twyla) storyline (no infidelity plot here, folks!). Language is all contemporary, though you never know what will come out of Moira's mouth. 
> 
> I had so much fun building this world while banging my head against my copy of Shakespeare's complete works. This fic would not exist without talkedwithnoman's incredible prompt, [fishyspots](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishyspots/pseuds/fishyspots), the folks of SC tumblr for letting me indulge in my love of Shakespeare, as well as my wonderful partner.
> 
> Kudos to [DelilahMcMuffin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelilahMcMuffin/pseuds/DelilahMcMuffin) and [Amanita_Fierce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amanita_Fierce/pseuds/Amanita_Fierce) for their wonderful work as betas. Amanita_Fierce has also created [a podfic of Much Ado About Schitt All](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26447533#comments), with artwork by [RhetoricalQuestions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhetoricalQuestions/pseuds/RhetoricalQuestions). Thank you so much for taking on this beast with me❤️

Moira paced about the office of Rosebudd Cottage, the sound of her soft slippers brushing faded carpet as she wrung her hands, occasionally sidling over to the hearth to warm her fingers. It was a chilly morning at The Creek. It had rained the night before so the ground was still sopping wet. The sky was deeply overcast and there was a heavy mist in the air, reminiscent of the gloomy skies that had plagued the Roses on the day of their arrival some years ago. The “office” had a touch of a draft, but it was warmed by the smell of cedar. An office it was not. Sure, Stevie’s desk was there, and she ran the place, but it was very much a space for everyone to gather in the evenings. On this misty morning, Moira was awaiting the many women in her company, uncharacteristically early to rise.

Her daughters were there with her; Alexis bounced her crossed legs while sitting on one of the well-worn couches and watching her mother tread across the carpet, while Rachel sat perched on the window sill, wrapped up in a cardigan, perhaps awaiting the return of the others more impatiently than the rest. They had left their brother David in a deep slumber in their room a few doors down. He was always the last of the Roses to awaken. Alexis twisted a lock of golden hair, curious as to why she was being forced to wait with them.

“Mom, would stop pacing, please? I thought you said there would be a carrier pigeon."

Moira started perusing the well-curated selection on Stevie’s bookshelf, paying only half a mind to what her youngest was saying. “Oh Alexis, you know how their travel is hindered by prodigious precipitation. I’m sure if there were cause for news, we would know by now.”

“Waiting to hear from Stevie, are we?” Rachel’s eyes drifted briefly away from the window, a smile teasing at her lips. 

Alexis groaned, perhaps out of boredom, perhaps trying to evade the question. “Whatever. All this waiting is making me late for my run,” she stalked off to the back room on a mission to find some yoghurt. Moira shrugged. Alexis would do what Alexis wanted to do. She always had a mind and tongue of her own. Just then, Moira caught sight of a flutter outside the window.

“Rachel! There it is!” Moira gasped, frantically pointing beyond the glass. Rachel’s eyes lit up, pushing up the creaky pane to grab the scroll from the incoming bird. 

“Let me, let me!” Moira rushed over, gently snatching the parchment out of her eldest’s hands. She was in the midst of reading its contents when the front door swung open.

“Veronica!” She gasped. Finally, her intrepid travellers were back. She ran towards Ronnie, who wore a draping olive-green rain jacket, and welcomed her inside with open arms. Ronnie’s face was a mixture of pride and disdain— simultaneously touched and insulted by Moira’s worry. She kissed Moira on each cheek before shucking off her raincoat and falling into one of the couches by the hearth. Stevie, Twyla and Jocelyn followed suit, all peeling off their rain gear. 

“My wayfaring women of business have returned!” Moira gushed as they hung everything up to dry. They were tired from their journey, but still had their wits about them. Rachel tumbled somewhat ungracefully down from the window, barrelling into Twyla’s arms. Twyla laughed breathlessly, pressing her nose into Rachel’s hair.

“Should’ve checked the weather report before we rode back from Elm Glen Station,” Stevie muttered, taking off her fogged-up wire frame glasses and rubbing them on her plaid tweed blazer. Stevie was a real business woman now. Her _spooky_ demeanour had grown into a confident wit since taking full ownership of the cottage. Though her words were always sharp and dry, there was an extra edge to them whenever she came into contact with a certain member of the Rose family. 

Stevie tried to shake the rainwater out of her hair, but, predictably, it just got caught in her eyes. Moira reached out to tuck the flyaways behind her ear while Stevie explained, “Ronnie was incredible. The Director of Municipalities loved our pitch—“

Moira’s eyes widened, hands clasping into fists. “Does this mean—”

Stevie nodded proudly. “A ten percent increase for rural municipal funding, yes.”

Moira cheered, shaking her hands in the air. What joyous news. 

Jocelyn piped up, having already put the kettle on the hearth for a fresh pot of tea. “I mean, the mayor of the town actually made a big contribution for that little presentation, but what do I know?” She huffed, plastering on a smile while she dusted her hands off on her well-worn, rolled up jeans. 

Stevie chuckled, walking around to her perch behind the desk, making sure everything was in its place. Though the cottage was in Moira’s name—something that had brought her family refuge after the cancellation of _Sunrise Bay_ —she still let all responsibility fall to Stevie. Moira was respectful enough not to mess with Stevie’s bookkeeping, though likely more due to disinterest than thoughtfulness. She watched Stevie’s fingers graze the spines of every well-loved volume. It was nice to have her back. It had been quiet without Stevie being at words with Alexis at all hours. 

“Oh, Stevie!” Moira gripped the edge of her desk, blood still pumping from excitement. “My Alexis will be so glee-ridden to hear of this news! We must tell her at once!”

Stevie rolled her eyes, banging her head down on her desk. A muffled “must we” ementated from underneath her curtain of hair. “Isn’t she off trying to straighten her hair or something?”

At that moment, the woman in question came breezing in from the back room, half-eaten cup of yoghurt in hand. 

“I don’t know why you insist on talking with your head down like that, Stevie. Nobody can hear you.” Stevie remained unmoved. Alexis tapped a finger on the wood. “Um, hello? Earth to Stevie.”

Stevie groaned and lifted her head, sliding her glasses back into place. “I wasn’t speaking to you,”

“Yes, but I heard my mom getting all excited so I came back into the room.”

“Alexis, if you came into the room every time you thought someone was speaking to you, you’d walk into a door.”

“Okay that was _one_ time, and I know you closed it on purpose,” Alexis waved her spoon in the air, jabbing it in Stevie’s direction.

“What can I say, I’d rather be caught dead than being chivalrous.” They stared at each other, once again finding themselves in an old familiar stalemate. The two had been at odds ever since the Rose family had first breezed through that office door. Perhaps it was because Alexis was rumoured to have broken the desk bell. Perhaps it was because Stevie had never given them the proper-sized towels. Whatever it was, they always fell into their old habit of quickly volleyed insults, a game for any and all in the vicinity to spectate upon. Stevie pushed her glasses back up her nose before crossing her arms. “You didn’t get the carrier pigeon we sent yesterday afternoon?”

“We got it the instant before you came through the door. Besides, it was raining. Birds don’t fly in the rain Stevie; everybody knows that.”

“That’s funny, because I talked to the bird and they told me it wouldn’t be a problem.”

Alexis rolled her eyes, leaning away from the desk. “Ugh, just spit it out already!”

“That wouldn’t be very ladylike.”

Ronnie sprung up from the couch, quickly fixing both girls a fresh cup of tea. “Okay, as much as I’m enjoying this little chit chat, I’ve got things to do and people to see.” She walked toward Stevie and Alexis, handing them their mugs. “Why don’t we have a party tonight to celebrate our new funding boost?” Ronnie smiled with warmth and pride. 

Alexis gasped, clapping her hands. “We got it?! Omigod yay!” Turning to narrow her eyes at Stevie before taking a sip of tea, her mood instantly soured. “See? Was that so hard?” 

Stevie shrugged and slurped her tea loudly, just for the sake of putting Alexis off.

Alexis smiled tightly back at her. “I think I’ll go share this news with my siblings.” She flicked her hair, sauntering out of the office.

“ ‘Lexis I’m right here,” Rachel called softly from the couch as her sister walked away. Rachel was wrapped up in Twyla’s arms like they’d been parted for months instead of just a handful of days. Twyla smoothed Rachel’s arm, attempting to begin untangling their limbs.

“I should probably get going to the café, fix us some breakfast. Everybody coming?” Twyla asked, getting up from the couch. Rachel pouted, knowing she’d have to wrestle David out of bed so they could open up the apothecary; a general yet specific store they ran together that was home to Rachel’s floristry and David’s glass blowing studio. Or rather, she would open up the apothecary with their assistant, Patrick. David would arrive at his leisure.

“You go ahead, dear,” Moira smiled softly at Twyla. “In all the hubbub of the morn, I forgot to select one of my girls,” she gestured delicately to her wig-less head of hair. 

Apart from Alexis, who was satisfied with her simple cup of yogurt, the rest of the women followed Twyla to the cafe for breakfast. Jocelyn peeled off to retreat to her home, mumbling something about having to prepare for the party. The walk into town never took too long. With cars being near obsolete, their entire group had the freedom to take up space on the road. The Roses’ efforts to turn around an otherwise desolate and antiquated hamlet was starting to show signs of bloom. After Rachel and David had opened Rosewood Apothecary, and Twyla had renovated the cafe, it had become a welcome hub for travellers off the beaten path. The new municipal funding was just the push they all needed to build The Creek into a place truly worth dwelling in. Of course Moira was always desperate to leave for something bigger and brighter, but Ronnie’s companionship and her children’s newfound happiness had created a strong tether.

Nestled in the main area of town was the apothecary, an empty old car garage that had since been converted into stables, and Twyla’s cafe. The cafe was always bright and sunny, much like Twyla’s disposition. Thin, gauzy curtains let in the daylight while they still had it. The booths had been a gift from Gwen, reupholstered by hand with fine leather, and every table and chair was a unique find, a perfectly eclectic mix. No sooner had Twyla opened the cafe doors then what seemed like half the women of the town came flocking in. No one made coffee quite like Twyla, and because she ran the cafe on her own, nearly all the residents had been mourning its temporary closure while she was out on business. Twyla got busy serving tables while Ronnie and Stevie made themselves comfortable at the bar. 

“Does David know you’re planning a last minute party?” Stevie smirked, slumping down onto the counter. Ronnie smiled back, bitter yet amused.

“Not yet, though I’m sure Alexis has told him by now. We’ll see if he has time to mood board anything.” The mood board comment was in part jest, part admiration. Besides being one of the only men that lived in town, it was David’s level of taste and artistic eye that made him a beloved resident of The Creek. Glass work such as his had never graced the town prior to the Roses’ arrival. He also happened to be Stevie’s favourite long term resident at the cottage, but it was a different family member Stevie wanted to speak about.

“Alexis has probably told the whole town about it by now with those loose lips.”

Ronnie frowned disapprovingly. Though Alexis, the princess that she was, was much different than the leader of The Creek’s business association, Ronnie had the utmost respect for her. “Hey now, she has done great work getting more folks into this town.”

“Which means more people I have to deal with,” Stevie rolled her eyes.

“Which is good for business.”

Ronnie wasn’t wrong. The term “publicist” had never been in their vocabulary before, but Alexis’ ability to share news of The Creek’s amenities would always spread like wildfire, a necessity, given the funding the town had just been gifted. 

Twyla made her way back to the bar after the first round of serving tables, stopping to deliver a tea for Wendy and an americano for Darlene’s cousin, then returning to Stevie and Ronnie. With the enchantment Twyla has placed on the kitchen, food never took too long to be served anyway. Ronnie was keen to change the subject. David would certainly have a handle on the aesthetic direction of the party once he got wind of it.

“Speaking of business… Twyla, you and Rachel have been together for years. When are you going to lock that down?” Ronnie raised an eyebrow, shovelling eggs onto her fork. 

Twyla blushed, busying herself with drying a mug that was probably already dry. “Oh I don’t know. I was so busy with the cafe renovation, and Rachel just opened the store… It just didn’t seem like there was a right time. Besides, Ms. Rose talks about leaving so much I just figured Rachel might want to go with her someday?”

Ronnie shook her head, resting her elbows on the table and folding her hands together. “What if I could convince her to stay? Hypothetically speaking,” Ronnie raised an eyebrow, “If Rachel joins the business association, it would guarantee part of the funding boost goes to the apothecary. _And_ if she can stay here to build her business, she can stay and build her life with you.”

Twyla shook her head, busying herself with wiping the counter. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“Twyla, c’mon,” Stevie swatted her arm gently. “Someone in this town deserves to be happy. God knows I’ll be single forever.”

“Hah!” Ronnie barked, taking a sip of her coffee. “Maybe if you and Alexis keep bickering.”

Stevie’s usual quick wit was cut short. She was always left stammering when someone mentioned Alexis. “So it’s settled then,” she retorted, bringing attention back to Twyla. “Ronnie’s going to make Rachel an offer she can’t refuse.”

Across the cafe, Wendy put down her tea, quietly excusing herself out of her window seat. Thanks to Wendy, the old adage that news spreads fast in a small town was regularly proven to be true.

***

Moira walked absentmindedly into the adjoining room that belonged to her kids, fingers combing through Lorna’s silky strands, today’s wig of choice. Alexis and David’s beds were side by side, pristinely made by David, most likely. Rachel slept on a cot, where normally a television set would go. Unfortunately, there was never enough power in the generators to supply a viewing of _Sunrise Bay_. Those were the days. Rachel’s bed was made just as neatly as her younger siblings’, but there was a white binder tossed haphazardly on the pillow. It was almost as if she had rushed out of the cottage to open the apothecary in good time and had forgotten this plastic monstrosity. What was it, exactly? Moira leaned down, delicately leafing through its contents. A scrapbook. Full of flowers of course—Rachel’s green thumb had emerged early in her young life, even before she had arrived at the profession, taking over the old general store with her floral business no less— but there were also suits and dresses and centrepieces. Was this… a wedding? Moira lifted up the book, squinting as she turned over the cover for further examination. 

_Rachel’s Wedding Dreambook, curated by David Rose: Alexis do NOT touch_ , was written in scrawling filigree. She gasped, dropping the book as if it were hot coals. Her daughter… married?! She pushed away thoughts of one of her bebes leaving the nest, choosing to focus on how happy Rachel was when she was wrapped up in Twyla’s arms. Now if only someone could make Alexis smile as much. Still, Rachel would make the most beautiful bride.

***

Wendy race-walked to Jocelyn’s home, not too far from the centre of town. She rapped softly on the door, glancing towards the street to see if anyone was out and about. The sun was finally starting to peek through, so residents were out strolling or working in their vegetable patches, enjoying the fresh air. Heather had even let her goats roam while the children of The Creek were behind the cafe, playing in the fairy garden. But Wendy didn’t have time to stop and chat with anyone. She had _news_. She didn’t bother waiting for Jocelyn to answer the door, she simply walked right in.

“Jocelyn!” Wendy called, dancing into the kitchen. Jocelyn was up to her forearms in flour, a freshly picked basket of apples waiting patiently on the counter. She looked up briefly from her work with the rolling pin.

Jocelyn smiled from ear to ear, but her eyes may have well been screaming. “Wendy, hi. I’m so sorry you caught me like this. Ronnie decided to spring a celebration party on everyone last minute and I couldn’t possibly show up empty handed on such short notice.”

Wendy gasped, holding her fists to her chest. “Oh let me help, dear!” She hurried and took a seat at the kitchen counter, making quick work of peeling the apples. Jocelyn’s baking talents were second to none, only slightly overshadowed by her status as mayor of The Creek. 

“So I was just in the café having my tea,” Wendy’s eyes were wide, waiting for Jocelyn’s curiosity to percolate. 

“Uh huh,” Jocelyn muttered while inspecting the thickness of the crust she had been rolling. It had to be absolutely perfect. 

“You’ll never believe it, but I heard Ronnie talking to the Women’s Business Association about bringing Rachel into the fold.”

Jocelyn’s posture suddenly straightened. “What? Why! If they do that, then she’ll receive part of the funding boost!” Wendy nodded her head in agreement, as if sharing the lot would be the worst thing to ever happen to them. Jocelyn shook her head, angrily trying to fix her already perfect pie crust. “I can’t stand that little store. Everything’s organic. David’s glass pieces are too… funky. And the way their sister promotes it with the message boards and the pigeons—“

“Tourists.” Wendy scrunched her nose in distaste. “They’re overcrowding our pretty little town with tourists. It’s exactly the artisanal shops like this that drives places like the Blouse Barn out of business.”

Jocelyn’s eyes softened as she loosened her grip on the rolling pin. “Oh Wendy, I really miss your store.”

Wendy nodded, the speed of her apple peeling noticeably slowing down. “Me too. But with the traffic the Roses are bringing in these days, it could mean—“

“No,” Jocelyn’s index finger flew up. “I refuse to let this town lose its charm. The day they start building condos, I’ll—“ she took a deep breath, trying to settle herself down. She plastered on the smile that was often reserved for town council meetings. “Well, maybe there just won’t be enough pie to go around.”

The conversation petered out as both became lost in thought and focused on the work in front of them. Jocelyn passed Wendy a cutting board to start chopping the apples while she tried to salvage the crust that she had somehow managed to roll far too thin. She was trimming the edges over the glass pan when she remembered just how _useful_ Wendy could be in circumstances such as this. 

“Wendy, you remember when Rachel and David worked at the Blouse Barn, right?” Wendy raised her eyebrows, liking the unknown direction Jocelyn was headed. “One could say as an employer, you know, someone who had to process _a lot_ of _paperwork_ and _designs_ from creative directors, you knew their handwriting very well.”

Wendy leaned forward. “I’m listening.”

“What if one were to come across, oh I don’t know,” Jocelyn shrugged, trying, with only moderate success, to remain aloof. “A little piece of paper in Rachel’s hand, perhaps, signing off on the closure of Rosewood Apothecary?”

Wendy gasped, practically falling out of her stool. “Over my ex-husband’s dead body! You really think we could do it?”

Jocelyn smiled with all the warmth and charm of a snake. She stopped fiddling with her pie to place a hand atop the multitude of chunky bracelets on Wendy’s wrist. “Wendy, you’re the perfect person to do this.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Facts from Shakespeare: (easter eggs that will be included at the end of each act)
> 
> -Many plays begin with a storm, which incites a moment of change. In this case, a storm is what originally brought the Roses to The Creek. 
> 
> -Forgery is a common plot device used to frame or trick people. Uh oh!
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!


	2. Act 2

The Roses spent the evening buzzing with excitement as they prepared to go to the party. David had already left some time ago to prepare the “special surprise” that would be the talk of the ball. Moira sat at her vanity, fiddling with the plumes of her dress. She could hear the girls mucking about through the open door, with the occasional, “ _Ouch_ , Rachel” and a softer, more level voice explain something about the price that comes with real flowers. What on earth were they doing?

“Mom?” Alexis called from the other room. “Have you heard anything from Jocelyn? I was hoping she’d be bringing Nanaimo bars again.”

“No, Alexis,” Moira sighed, not bothering to get up from her chair. 

“Well she seemed really excited about the party this morning,” Alexis’ voice got louder as she moved towards their mother’s bedroom. “If she could share half that enthusiasm with Stevie, they both might be more, I don’t know,  _ normal _ ?” 

Moira chuckled, lips remaining closed, before turning to get a look at her daughter. “My dear!” she scanned her eyes up and down, breathing in the beauty that was her youngest. “Please try to soften that sharp tongue of yours, for you are looking positively _ radiant  _ this evening.” Moira leaned over, calling into the other room. “Rachel, come here!”

Rachel shuffled in to stand by Alexis’s side, watching their mother take in their gowns. There was something in the air, something that was making Moira’s eyes a little mistier than usual. “My beautiful girls,” Moira’s voice broke, going to kiss her daughters’ cheeks. “Let’s get going shall we? You know what old Tippy used to say; on time is late and early is on time, unless it’s a party!” Moira tried to shoo her girls out the door. 

Alexis and Rachel shared a bewildered look. It wasn’t like their mother to get so sentimental. They linked their arms and walked behind Moira on the way into town, whispering and giggling as Rachel recounted the many characters that had graced the apothecary that day. Rachel’s eyes sparkled with excitement. There was something about the way she carried herself tonight that made Alexis jealous, wishing she could be as happy as her sister. Maybe it was the ridiculous dream book she caught her staring at again. 

From a distance, one could see the lights strung between the buildings, and folks were already starting to play music. Even Patrick’s accordion could be heard from the short distance away. The sun had just set, and only a few wisps of cloud and the bright orb of the full moon marred the otherwise blue expanse. It was the tail end of summer, not quite autumn, and the air was clear with only the occasional cool breeze drifting through the trees.

Rachel had the innate Rose sense of style, but cared little for how she appeared to others. Though she had on the same muddy black blundstones that she wore when she foraged for flowers, her dress was an electric blue silk decorated in foliage and white roses, stopping just past her knees. Alexis, on the other hand, went all out tonight, as she did for any occasion. 

Once they arrived at the town square, the dancing was well under way. Patrick had started to play a rousing jig with the aid of Tennessee's fiddle, accompanied by a few other musicians. David emerged from the crowd in glossy black and white, looking irritated. “What are you wearing?” He ran up to them and crossed his arms. 

Moira excused herself to go find Ronnie, and perhaps some Zhampagne, effectively avoiding a skirmish between siblings. 

David stared coldly at Alexis, taking in her floor length blush gown and the voluptuous crown of purple flowers Rachel had spent so much time weaving into her hair. 

“A  _ dress, _ David. I’d let you borrow it, but I don’t think this is your colour.”

David shook his head. “Uh uh.” He waved an accusing hand in Alexis’ face, his silver rings catching the light. “What is that on your  _ face _ ?” 

Rachel had to bite her tongue to hide her bubbling laughter. She was merely a witness; today wasn’t her battle. After all, she wasn’t the one who decided to cover half her face in gold fairy dust.

“God, David! You’re the one who told me to start using gold as an accent colour! I’m  _ sorry _ for following your advice.”

David  _ had _ told Alexis this before, and in all fairness, she looked absolutely stunning. The low hanging amber lights caught the glitter just so, emphasizing her dazzling aqua eyes.  David groaned and covered his mouth with his hands, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“Not the direction I was going for tonight,” David supplied, eyes drifting amongst the townspeople. Alexis and Rachel followed his gaze, taking in the laughing, dancing people, all wearing blown-glass Venetian masks.

“David, did you do this?” Rachel asked, basking in her brother’s talent. 

His mouth twisted in a bashful smile. “Yes. And I’ve put a charm on all of them so they won’t fall off your face,  _ Alexis.” _

Alexis pouted. “But that‘s going to be so heavy! It’s going to give me wrinkles! And you know we can’t afford Botox anymore.” 

Moira made her way back to her offspring, flutes of Zhampagne in hand. “Children, children!” she chided, passing a drink to each of them. “Let us celebrate this momentous occasion of our increased prosperity! And you,” she turned to Rachel, voice breaking as she pressed a hand to her eldest daughter’s cheek. “Mummy is so proud. Twyla is one lucky girl.” 

Rachel smiled back at her mother. Had she noticed Rachel had left the dream book on her bed this morning?

Moira then turned to her youngest. “One day Alexis, I hope to see you paired with such a fine person.” 

Alexis’s eyes drifted towards the pavement. She would never be part of a pair as strong as Rachel and Twyla. Who on earth could ever keep up with Alexis? Perhaps she was destined to be alone. 

Rachel made quick work of fetching herself a mask hanging from one of the trees, while David excused himself to return to Patrick.

“I’m off to find Ronnie,” Rachel said to Alexis, gently sliding a vermillion green mask onto her face. “She said she wanted to talk to me about… Something,” her words were becoming thick and syrupy. “'Lexis I think David put a pretty heavy charm on these. Be careful who you dance with.”

Rachel left Alexis left standing with her Zhampagne. Alexis sighed— this was  _ not  _ a cute look for her. She quickly gulped down the contents of her flute before joining in the dance that was taking up the entire block. Townswomen in beautiful gowns and bespoke suits weaved in and out of each other, perhaps with a hint of clumsiness given the charm on David’s masks. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see David and Patrick wading through the tall grass behind the cafe, trying to catch fireflies. In David’s bug-averse case, he just wanted to find more fairies. With the slight distraction, it was no surprise Alexis bumped into someone. Loose brown waves of hair fell over the edges of her assailant’s glowing red mask. Alexis knew that hair anywhere.

“Sorry,” the voice behind the mask slurred. 

“Excuse you,” said Alexis. She had meant for it to come out as clipped: however, even without a mask, the exuberance of the party seemed to be rubbing off on her. It almost sounded like she was flirting. “If I didn’t know any better I would say Stevie’s hiding under that sharp suit.”

The red mask coughed a laugh. “Who’s Stevie?”

Alexis rolled her eyes softly. “I’m sure you know her well enough.”

“Never heard of her.”

“She’s about yea high,” Alexis gestured a hand to her chest, “Terrible posture, so well-read that it’s annoying, can’t do math but somehow runs a thriving hospitality empire?” 

Masked Stevie sneered. Alexis felt her voice soften. “Everybody likes her even though it would break her face to smile? Constantly trips over her own two feet and bumps into people?”

Beneath the empty space protected in rounded glass, Stevie rolled her eyes. “When I find her, I’ll tell her all about the kind words you had to say.” 

Jocelyn watched Stevie and Alexis’s heated interaction—though in the midst of the lively party, their exchange only seemed like a spirited discussion. She sat with Wendy on the steps of the cafe and stabbed at her Dorito casserole while everyone danced together in the street. From their position, she could see the entire party. She kept one eye down the street towards the steps of the apothecary, where Ronnie and Rachel—at least she _ thought  _ it was them, but these masks were making everyone’s brains foggy—mirrored Jocelyn and Wendy, sitting close together on the steps and looking intently at a small collection of papers. This just wouldn’t do.

“Stevie!” She called out to the figure with familiar brown hair, wearing wide chestnut dress pants and a white blouse with lace trim. Her mask was a soft pink, spreading out into her hair in a feather pattern.

“I’m pretty sure that’s Twyla,” Wendy leaned over to whisper into Jocelyn’s ear. Jocelyn ignored her observation, insisting it was Stevie. In order for the Business Association to crumble, she needed to start planting distrust from all sides.

Twyla didn’t mind being called someone else’s name. Besides, with the amount of cousins she had, she was used to it. She gracefully stumbled over to the steps of her cafe, leaning on the brick exterior. The effects of the mask were starting to get to her.

“Y’know Stevie,” Jocelyn leaned forward. “You see Rachel across the street with Ronnie? I heard she’s trying to transfer the apothecary’s lease."

Twyla opened her mouth in shock. Was now a good time to take off her mask? 

Jocelyn continued without waiting for a reply. “I couldn’t help but overhear you and David the other day, talking about how he needs more studio space to keep up with demand? Sounds like it would be a big renovation for Ronnie, if you know what I mean. And wouldn’t you want to see your best friend’s dreams come true?” Jocelyn batted her eyelashes innocently as they grazed her gauzy white glass mask. “ _ Any-who _ , just wanted to let you know that I would be a  _ big  _ fan of that expansion project.” 

“Wendy?” Jocelyn turned to the woman beside her, who was in the midst of shoving a Nanaimo bar into her mouth.

“What?"

“I think I’m ready for dessert now!” Jocelyn grabbed her elbow, heaving both of them off the steps and traipsing back into the sea of people. Twyla was left by herself, staring dumbfounded across the way at Ronnie and Rachel’s intimate conversation.

Was this what Rachel truly wanted? Had she misjudged?  _ Of course  _ the most beautiful, selfless person would want to give her brother all the happiness he deserved. She could very well take her floral business anywhere, but David—David needed a studio, and those couldn’t be built overnight. Even Twyla’s magic wasn’t that strong. And if Rachel _ could  _ take her business anywhere, who’s to say she wanted to stay in The Creek? She shoved a hand deep into her right pants pocket, smoothing her grandmother's ring over in her fingers. Who was Twyla to ask Rachel to stay tied down to a town her family thought of as temporary? She didn’t have the right. 

“You’re not writing a song are you?” Came a slurred, gravelly voice from beside Twyla. Stevie nudged her with her shoulder. Twyla tried to open her mouth, but worried she might begin to cry. 

Stevie paid her no mind. “Okay, look. Sure the Rose girls are like, really pretty. And smart. And nice, or whatever. But you've got one, y’know? Lucky you. At least you can be your whole self around her. You don’t have to worry about—“ Stevie waved her hand in the air, literally grasping at straws. “About—“

Twyla smiled knowingly. “Stevie, is this about Alexis?”

“No!” Stevie pried her mask off, wiping a hand over her face. It was starting to make her dizzy. “I was obviously talking about you and Rachel. You’re still proposing tonight, yeah?”

Twyla sighed, glancing down at her oxfords. “Not tonight,” she whispered, her eyes stinging with oncoming tears. “I’m going to step inside. Grab us both glasses of water.” Twyla smiled sadly and squeezed Stevie’s arm before heading inside the cafe. 

Stevie leaned back against the brick wall, sighing in frustration. What the hell did David do to these masks? Her head was spinning. Or was it just Alexis, in all her glittering gold? No. _No_ , it was certainly not Alexis.

She forced her eyes open just enough to see Ronnie sauntering towards the cafe with her hands in her pockets. Moira followed close behind, arm in arm with her eldest, both their masks in her hand. The warm bulbs of light against the now blackened sky gave everyone a happy glow. 

“Stevie, we’ve got good news,” Ronnie beamed. “Have you seen Alexis? She said she was looking for you.”

“Why would she be looking for me? I wasn’t looking for her, if that’s what you're thinking.”

As if on cue, the cafe door creaked open. Alexis held the door open for Twyla, whose arms were laden with mason jars full of water for everyone. When did Alexis go inside?

“Gotta go,” Stevie mumbled. How on Earth was she supposed to face Alexis with the knowledge she had been looking for her? Best to make an escape while she could. Maybe she could corral David away from Patrick long enough to solve their problems with a bottle of red wine.

Ronnie reached out to lighten Twyla’s load, passing the drinks around. “Ladies, I’m happy to welcome our newest member to the Schitt’s Creek Women’s Business Association.”

Twyla almost dropped her mason jar. Rachel stood beaming, hands behind her back with eyes only for her. She stepped forward, revealing the fresh ink she and Ronnie had put to paper. For the second time that evening, Twyla was at a loss for words.

“Of course the last time I signed a contract,” Moira cooed from behind them, “I asked for a diamond tennis bracelet. But I am certain my daughter would acquiesce to another item of jewellery. Perhaps one of differing symbology?” Moira wrapped her arm around Ronnie, giving Twyla a knowing wink. 

“I didn’t think you wanted to stay,” Twyla whispered to Rachel. Her tears now flowed freely, hand subconsciously reaching into her pocket. 

Rachel smiled warmly, voice breaking. “I want to be wherever you are.” 

In the periphery, Alexis gasped, hand hitting Ronnie’s arm. 

Twyla pulled out the ring, and Rachel all but thrust her hand in front of her, collapsing into Twyla’s chest. They were both attempting to hold each other up, knees weak with joy.

“Rach,” Alexis squeaked from beside them. Her hands were clasped over her heart as she watched the two of them in awe. Alexis’ own saltwater tears made tracks through the gold adorning her cheeks. “Look at you! My sister—” Alexis’s voice became soft “—you found your special lock. I’m so, so happy for you. I— I should go find David. He should be here.” Her eyes darted around, trying to find a graceful and efficient exit. “Sorry, I should go.”

Alexis turned on her heels, weaving through the crowd. She surprised herself by breaking into a run, going as fast as her sandalled feet would carry her. 

Why had this hurt her so? As the eldest, it made some sense that Rachel would marry first. It was  _ easy _ for her. She was pretty, Alexis supposed, in a non-threatening way. But what kind of person would willingly spend the rest of their life with Alexis? She already felt as though she stuck out too much here. Everyone else in this little town had managed to find their perfect match.

Moira watched her daughter go in a wave of purple, peach and gold before turning back to her company. Everyone was wrapped around each other dreamily, the magic in David’s masks evaporating ever so slowly. But she couldn’t let one daughter bask in the warmth while another got burned.

“Gals, on this particular evening, I do recall a trifling arc on  _ The Bay _ , where Trystan was convinced by his former ex-stepmother that Vivian Blake was madly in love with him. Of course she was after Vivian’s inheritance, but let us not be concerned with the irrelevant details. Are we up for a little improvising?”

***

Jocelyn scrubbed away at her long-emptied pie pan in the low lamp lighting. Wendy and Gwen sat at the kitchen table, dealing out cards for a quick game of poker, a sensible way to wind down from such an exciting evening. 

“So it’s all happening,” she said through clenched teeth. “Twyla and Rachel are getting married.” 

“Not so fast,” Wendy soothed. Her bracelets jangled as she got up from the table. She reached into her purse on the kitchen counter, revealing a crisp manila envelope. “I believe you requested this?” Wendy asked with a knowing smile as she pulled out the contents. 

Jocelyn quickly stripped off her gloves and dried her hands with a tea towel before rushing over to see Wendy’s handy work. These documents were too precious, she couldn’t risk any damage befalling them by not taking the necessary care in drying her hands. Gwen got up from the table to join them. The three stood, looming over a small stack of stark white pages. The first read  _ Notice of Lease Transfer,  _ the second  _ Resignation of Residency.  _ Jocelyn’s mouth fell slack in admiration. It was a wonder Wendy had drawn these up with such speed.

“Ladies,” Jocelyn felt a smile peaking at the edge of her lips. “I think we need to take a little trip to the town hall.”

***

Stevie walked briskly towards the cafe, head still swimming from the night before as she tried to parse through her book on medieval snails. Before the Roses had landed in The Creek and helped her fill the empty cottage, she spent her days alone, reading anything and everything she could acquire. Once she had read through the libraries of the Greater Elms, she had started scouring for rare books, sending carrier pigeons to rare book dealers in the hopes of adding to her personal collection. This dusty old tome was one of many. 

As she was nearing the cafe, she felt a fly buzzing in her ear. “Fuck off,” she mumbled to the empty street. Everyone else was probably enjoying an easy morning, waking up slowly inside their respective homes. But not Stevie; she was on her way to help start wedding planning. She grumbled, swatting at the fly. She smacked it with her book, getting bug juice on its pretty pages, and subsequently her hands.  _ Ew _ , she thought, then grimaced. She was starting to sound like one of the Roses.

She walked into the cafe, where Moira and Ronnie sat up at the counter enjoying yoghurt parfaits. They were the only people there with Twyla, so the establishment remained rather quiet. Alexis must be running late.  _ Quelle surprise _ . Stevie quickly motioned to her book and her hand. “There was a fly,” she managed, hoping it would be enough of an explanation for her bee-line to the cafe washroom. Just as she had rounded the corner, Moira began to speak.

“Well she’s absolutely glee-ridden for her sister of course, I’m certain _ Alexis  _ dotes on  _ Stevie,  _ whom based on outward behaviour she seems to abhor. Veronica dear, I don’t know what to think of this love of enraged affection.”

_ Shit.  _ Stevie slammed her back against the wall, wanting to stay hidden, but remain within earshot. 

“Perhaps she’s masking her admiration with disdain?” Stevie hears Ronnie suggest. She can even pick up the hint of a smile in Ronnie’s voice; it had been a similar set of circumstances that had brought her and Moira together. 

“Oh Twyla!” Moira gasped, “Were you not telling me that Rachel confessed such a truth to you about my dear Alexis?”

“She did?” Twyla sounded confused. “Oh that’s right, she did! Rachel says Stevie is all Alexis can talk about.” 

Stevie slid down to sit on the floor. Her legs were practically jelly. She hugged her knees, eyes wide, sending a silent prayer that nobody would catch her. Had she exchanged words with Alexis last night at the party? Stevie could barely remember. 

Ronnie spoke next. “But has she told Stevie how she feels?”

“No!” Moira wailed in melancholy. “The poor girl is absolutely  _ tormented _ with her thoughts. For yesterday, when we stumbled home from the ball, I saw her write a declaration of her love, only to tear it up in a thousand tiny pieces and leave it on display next to her perishing succulent.” 

“Yes,” Twyla followed. “And Rachel— Rachel told me Alexis just collapsed afterward in tears, too exhausted to even take her makeup off.” 

“Oh no,” Ronnie said flatly. “I hope Stevie doesn’t come across the torn up letter when she’s cleaning the rooms. What would she do if she found it?”

Stevie froze. Were all these words true? Did Alexis have affection for her? She couldn’t very well step back into this conversation—what if they knew she had been listening?? Stevie got on her hands and knees, crawling slowly and silently towards the bathroom. The only way she could get out of this with her dignity intact was by climbing out the window. It could be done,  _ had _ been done by at least one of her disaster dates in the past. 

She numbly climbed up the radiator, then pushed open the pane. Her top half was through the window when she realized she had forgotten her book in the hallway. Godammit. She’d just have to let it go for the time being. Perhaps she could race back to the cottage, look for the letter, and make it back in time to finish breakfast with the others. Could she? 

Did Alexis really  _ love  _ her? She was a fierce and feminine force, something that deeply intimidated Stevie; the type of girl who she would feel undeserving to sit beside in school, who could have anyone she wanted, who was effortlessly cool. Stevie was none of those things. It was hard to believe that someone like Alexis could fall for someone like her. And what was she supposed to do with this information? She already felt like a babbling idiot at the best of times, whereas Alexis could shoot paper bullets to her brain. Stevie was much better at living in the make-believe worlds she read about in her books. The real world often left her feeling uncomfortable and out of her depth. 

Stevie was hanging off the ledge of the window, preparing herself to let go and fall to the grass below, when a familiar voice caught her attention.

“There you are!”

Alexis stood with her arms crossed, standing at the edge of the fairy garden. The pollen and dust seemed to float above the grass, drifting towards Alexis and lighting up her honeyed curls. She was beautiful even when she was angry.  _ Oh. Oh God. _

“I was told to come find you,” Alexis shrugged, nary a hint of worry. It seemed as though she had appeared out of thin air, unsurprised to find Stevie hanging from a window ledge. Why did Alexis always make herself present at the most inconvenient times? 

“Thanks for going through the trouble.” Stevie felt the tips of her ears warm and her lips unconsciously spread into a smile.  _ Oh no. _

Alexis opened her mouth as if to throw a retort, clearly taken aback by Stevie’s gratitude. “Well I know you hate physical activity, so you couldn’t have gone very far,” Alexis quipped confidently. 

“Oh so we’re playing hide and seek then?” Stevie broke into a grin. 

Alexis groaned. “Are you hungry, or not?”

Almost in an instant, Stevie’s stomach decided to make a noise.  _ Right. _ She was hungry, and hanging onto the edge of the bathroom window for no reason. She dropped unceremoniously to the ground, a cloud of shimmering fairy dust coming up around her. 

Alexis took that as a yes, turning around to retreat back to the cafe—through the proper entrance, like a normal functioning person. Stevie took the time to watch her saunter away, the golden dust from the garden slowly drifting off of her. It was as if she was seeing Alexis in a whole new light. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alexis and Moira's looks are inspired by costuming from season 6. Rachel is wearing The Love Dress by Marc Jacobs
> 
> Fun Facts From Shakespeare:
> 
> -Alexis's flower crown is inspired by A Midsummer Night's Dream, where anyone anointed with the purple flower falls in love
> 
> -Stevie's fly killing is taken from Titus Andronicus, arguably one of the best deaths


	3. Act 3

The sun filtered in through the windows of Rosewood Apothecary that morning, along with a slight breeze that gently rustled the dried flowers hanging from the ceiling. David fluttered from shelf to shelf, making sure every single vial and jar was oriented correctly. It was his daily ritual, before he retreated to his studio in the back, a well-crafted means of avoiding interactions with people while Rachel and Patrick took care of the shop floor. 

Rachel watched her brother as she and Patrick gathered handfuls of the goods they’d foraged from the crates at their feet. Not only did they have a day’s worth of flower arrangements to make for their customers, she also had to start designing the ones she wanted for her wedding. She and Twyla had agreed they didn’t need to wait, and with the town's ability to pull together a party on short notice, a mere handful of days was more than enough to prepare. It didn’t help that she kept getting distracted by her engagement ring every time she reached for a flower. At least the fresh dew from this morning’s collection helped to rid her of any lingering effects of last night’s charms. Patrick set a humble handful of bunny tail grasses on the counter, giving her a knowing shrug. He was probably going to ask for more of them to be dyed blue, that silly boy.

“Hey David?” Rachel asked, not bothering to look up as she expertly cut the foliage held in her hand.

Foraging days were always the hardest for David. He never came with them because it was always too early in the morning, and whenever he finally made it to the shop, he found trails of mud flaking off from their caked, sensible footwear.

“Mm?” David turned to them, finally taking his eyes off the shelf full of creams. “Okay, no.” He shook his head fiercely, glaring at the floor in between her and Patrick. 

Patrick looked back at him with a bashful smile on his face, wiping his hands on his overalls. He was wearing a thin forest green sweater rolled up to his elbows, and Rachel noticed how distracted her brother was by his exposed forearms. 

She cleared her throat. “David, you remember the plan mom laid out last night?” She waited for her brother to redirect his focus. He made a lazy circle with his hand in the air, a gesture for her to get on with it. “Well I’d like to get ‘Lexis here. Maybe show her that bell jar you’ve been making. While you’re both in the studio, Patrick and I,” she glanced at their assistant, making sure he was taking in her every word, “will speak of Stevie’s disguised love for her. You know she won’t be able to resist town gossip.” Rachel smiled confidently, as if she were indulging David in some sort of secret. 

David simply rolled his eyes. “Okay fine, but only if you two farm animals clean up this mess you’ve traipsed into our rustic and charming place of business,” he waved a hand at their muddy footprints that had covered half the shop floor. 

Grateful for his cooperation, Rachel took a hand from her bouquet of sunflowers to squeeze David’s arm. 

David wrinkled his nose, taking the long way around the apothecary tables to avoid muddying his Rick Owens on his way out of the shop. Rachel watched him fondly, recalling their younger days when they would put their heads together to play games and silly tricks on Alexis, or when they exchanged words about her loser shipping heir ex-partners without her knowing. Now it felt like they were doing something  _ bigger _ , maybe more useful. 

“Love you!” she called out to David as she watched him walk across the street to the cafe.

Their family had become increasingly integrated into life at The Creek, the curious town that it was. While David and Rachel had physically inserted themselves with the creation of Rosewood Apothecary, Alexis’s presence was a little more subtle. There was something within her that understood the magic of The Creek beyond the charms and enchantments that any average person could learn, for Alexis had developed the uncanny ability to appear wherever she was drawn to. It wouldn’t take that long for Alexis to come into the shop. Unfortunately for Rachel, this meant she only had so much time to strategize with Patrick before her sister’s impending arrival. 

“So what’s the plan?” Patrick’s eyes glistened with intrigue as he looked up from the foliage he was rearranging with his calloused hands. 

“Follow my lead,” Rachel spoke in a low and excited voice. “We must only talk of Stevie. When we speak of her, praise her more than anyone, and talk about how sick she is with love for ‘Lexis.”

Patrick clenched his jaw and nodded, taking Rachel’s words with great solemnity. He opened his mouth to speak again, only to be interrupted by the sound of the back door opening and heels shuffling on the concrete studio floor. Alexis must’ve known they needed her, because it had taken only a moment for her to appear--- and taking David along with her. Her apparating abilities were almost _ too _ convenient.

Alexis’ voice carried from the studio. “Okay you have to show me what you added to your little pigment piece thingies to make that charm for the masks, because Mom said it was  _ almost _ like that one time in Rio—“

“Sooo, Rachel.” Patrick began to talk over Alexis, his voice intentionally raised. “Are you sure it was Stevie who was talking about Alexis?” 

Rachel could faintly hear Alexis’ footsteps come to an abrupt halt, along with a whispered, “Shush, David!”

_ Excellent. _

“Yes, she was!” Rachel winked at Patrick and busied her hands with creating another sunflower bouquet. “I was borrowing a book from her collection when I saw her writing some letter trying to recount their conversation from last night. And when she caught me looking she said Alexis must never know.” 

Patrick placed his bouquet on the apothecary table and began to bind it with twine. “I wish she would give herself a chance. She could be so happy, if only she’d allow herself to see that she deserves all the love Alexis has to give her.” 

The studio was silent, indicating that Rachel and Patrick had Alexis’s full attention. Rachel put on her best impression of her mother, aiming for a hint of ennui. “But there is no one who is more proud than little ‘Lexis. She looks at Stevie with such disdain and scorn, one would only assume her feelings are unrequited.”

“Wait,” Patrick’s eyes danced as he passed her the completed bouquet. “Are you saying that Alexis likes her back?”

Rachel didn’t have time to answer. Their staged conversation was interrupted by the sound of smashing glass, followed by a gasp. David’s beautiful bell jar was without a doubt shattered into dozens of tiny pieces. 

“Oops,” David called from the studio with seldom a hint of sincerity, followed by the sound of clicking heels and the back door slamming. It seemed as though their planted words had made a great impact on her little sister.

“I think it worked,” Patrick whispered to her. 

“Oh you think?” David called from the back as he went to sweep up glass. She could practically hear his eyes rolling.

Alexis stepped out the back door of David’s studio. There was no way she could risk facing Rachel after what she had heard, and she felt guilty for accidentally dropping a pretty new piece of David’s work on the floor. She wanted nothing more than to go on a run, even if she was wearing a day dress. She replayed Rachel and Patrick’s words over and over in her head. Did she really carry herself with so much outward pride? In all fairness, perhaps she hadn’t treated Stevie in the kindest of manners when her family first arrived in The Creek. But what was she to do? Rachel had Twyla and David had Patrick, and her mother had Ronnie. 

She had thought she’d hated Stevie for having her nose in her books and assuming Alexis was too vapid to ever understand all that they contained. She thought Stevie’s biting sarcasm was meant solely to shake up Alexis’ sunny disposition, to bring her down to her level. And somehow Alexis had always gone right down there with Stevie, eager to win, to prove she was more capable a person than people gave her credit for. 

But Stevie,  _ in love _ with her? Was that why she was acting so weird, even _ after _ David’s charms had worn off? What was she to do? Alexis knew that in order to let Stevie in, she needed to start softening her words. Just like Patrick said, Stevie  _ deserved  _ as much. 

Alexis suddenly felt the need to lie down.

***

“Okay gals, I think that’s enough for today,” Jocelyn closed her sheet music and smiled back at the semi circle of women. Twyla had politely requested they sing as a part of the ceremony, and if Jocelyn could bake a last minute pie, she could certainly arrange a composition for the Jazzagals at moment’s notice. She could do it, but she didn’t have to like it. But this was all part of the plan. She had already spoken to Stevie— she couldn’t risk trying anything with Ronnie, given her companionship with Moira. They had planted Wendy’s paperwork in one of the town council desks, and now all she needed was for Twyla to find it. 

Ronnie and Twyla were having a confab in the corner of the room,  _ not  _ helping the rest of the gals put away the music stands and push the desks back in place. Jocelyn bristled, surreptitiously putting away music stands nearby in order to eavesdrop. 

“This morning was so thrilling,” Twyla beamed. “I cannot remember the last time I got to act in something. Do you think Stevie bought it?” 

Ronnie smirked. “Of course. You think I didn’t hear her climbing out the window? And when they finally made it to breakfast, she froze up every time the  _ princess _ breathed in her general direction.”

“Oooh this is so fun!” Twyla squealed. “They’re going to make each other so happy, I can feel it!”

Jocelyn watched Ronnie chuckle and share some looks of secrecy with Twyla. What on  _ earth _ were they doing? How could Twyla possibly run a cafe, plan a wedding, and be in on some sort of plot amongst her friends all at once? Oh, that’s right, maybe because she wasn’t trying to keep an entire town in order whilst fulfilling last minute labours for everyone. Jocelyn was peeved.

She cleared her throat. “Ladies, we could use your help putting the room back together.”

Twyla’s face washed over with guilt, looking for all the world like a kicked puppy. 

Ronnie on the other hand, just stared back at her. “You know I have sciatica. And besides, I need to head back to the cottage— Stevie’s got me fixing a leaky roof.”

Jocelyn could feel her eye twitch.

Twyla rushed forward, moving to push the desks back. “Jocelyn I’m so sorry, I got distracted.”

Jocelyn smiled back, trying not to flare her nostrils in frustration. She signalled for the other women to head home. They worked in tandem, pushing the desks back slowly and carefully to the sounds of carefree chatter and feet shuffling down the hall. Most were excited about the wedding in a few days' time, trying to decide what to wear and recommending different perfumes from the apothecary to one another. 

Once the door finally swung shut, Jocelyn put on her game face.

“Thanks so much Twyla, I really appreciate it.” She leaned back on a desk, crossing her arms. Her lines were perfectly rehearsed, of course. “You know what, I think Moira wanted an additional song? I think it was something about a machine gun ballet…” Her spine straightened, as if she had an idea. “Let me check and see if I kept the sheet music somewhere.”

Twyla nodded dubiously as Jocelyn walked around the desk and began opening drawers. “I’m certain I left it here somewhere,” Jocelyn muttered, pulling out pages upon pages of parchment. 

Twyla came up beside her and began thumbing through the pages on top of the desk. Of course there was no machine gun ballet score in here, but Twyla—being ever so helpful—would be keen to find it. Jocelyn watched for a moment as Twyla meticulously looked through old news clippings, poorly filled out incorporation papers, thank you notes, and the like. Town council really needed to get a better filing system. As gratifying as it was to make Twyla walk blindly into a bear trap, this was taking too long.

Jocelyn pulled out the papers she needed, carefully placed amongst the debris on the desk. “Oh dear. What’s this?” She stared at it for a moment before handing it over to Twyla.

“ _ Notice of Lease Transfer _ ,” Twyla read softly under her breath, eyes scanning the contents of the page. “This was filled out this morning!” Her doe eyes began to widen, panic setting in.  _ Perfect.  _ Twyla showed Jocelyn the papers, obviously trying to make sense of what she was reading. “Rachel wants to hand the apothecary over to David? Why would she give up her business like that?”

Jocelyn winced as she shrugged slowly, trying to draw out the bad news. She hadn’t had this much fun in a long time. “I don’t know. What does the next paper say?”

Twyla turned the papers back to herself, drawing them into her chest. It was almost as if she wanted to keep the answer to herself.

“It’s an application to terminate her residency. She wants to move out of The Creek?” Twyla’s voice had become a high-pitched, faint whisper. Jocelyn frowned, preparing comforting words, going in for the kill.

“Oh, honey,” she sat back down on the desk, gesturing for Twyla to join her. Twyla dragged her feet on the floor, gracelessly slumping down beside her. Jocelyn wrapped an arm around the younger woman’s shoulders and gave a tight squeeze.

“It’s probably cold feet. I know this isn’t the best way to find out, but you’ll be better off. My fiancé left me at the Elmdale bingo hall, and my life has only improved since then.”

“But I could make her so happy here,” Twyla whispered, defeated. 

Jocelyn rubbed Twyla’s arm and watched as tears started to drop onto the pristine white paper. “What are you going to do about this, Twyla?” 

***

As the sun had lazily begun to set, the sound of cicadas vibrating in the early evening air, the Rose siblings hung about their room at the cottage. In just a couple hours, Moira and Ronnie would be hosting a barbecue in the field out front, a communal meal to precede Rachel and Twyla’s wedding rehearsal. Sliders were a favourite of David and Rachel’s, so the promise of good food and lingering wedding jitters made the air in the room crackle with excitement. Music drifted softly from their radio in an attempt to keep them both at ease. Rachel watched over her brother as he made the final adjustments on her dress. 

She stood before the mirror, blushing at her own reflection. In her periphery, she could see Patrick admiring David’s handiwork from his place on Alexis’s bed. The dress was composed of simple cream chiffon and embroidered wildflowers, something she and David had been secretly working on together from a pattern in the dream book since she first started her courtship with Twyla.

“Patrick, could you grab ‘Lexis for me? I think she’s just in our mom’s room.” 

Patrick nodded and headed through the adjoining door. The day was wearing long and she wanted to have a moment alone with her brother.

“You’ve done such a beautiful job, David. I can’t wait to wear this for real.” David looked up from where he knelt adjusting the skirt hem, and smiled back at her. Rachel wiped a tear from her eye. “But my heart is a little heavy today.”

“Well it will be heavier soon,” David said softly, though his eyebrows were pointed. “What with you being married.”

“You don’t want to be married someday?” She countered. 

“I’m not answering that,” David looked down at Rachel’s dress, refocusing on the final alterations. 

Rachel looked up at the soft sound of slippers dragging on carpet, to see a very sad Alexis shuffling in with a bewildered Patrick following behind. 

“Are you wearing sweatpants?” David asked, unsuccessfully hiding a grimace.

Alexis pouted and flopped onto her bed. She had been out of sorts ever since overhearing the conversation in the apothecary that morning, unable to settle and focus on work. David would’ve labelled it as spiralling, Rachel thought. She looked as though she may have been crying. Alexis pulled out a parchment from the pocket of her grey cotton sweatpants, tossing it onto her pillow. She sighed and looked back to her siblings' concerned and curious faces. 

“I don’t know if it’s like, all this wedding stuff that’s being shoved in my face,” her voice shook, “But I think I’m realizing I haven’t been…the nicest person? Like this town loves me, but there’s this one person who just makes my life miserable and I think I’ve been making her—them—I think I’ve been doing that to them too and—“

“Yeah. Stevie. We know,” Rachel and David answered in unison. Alexis threw a pillow at them in response. Rachel knew that Alexis wasn’t overly fond of having two older siblings, as they often ganged up on her. Even so, she couldn’t bear to see her sister so unhappy so close to what would be the happiest day of Rachel’s life. She wanted to lighten the mood and bring a smile to her sister’s face. Ripe with mischief, she grabbed the discarded pillow and hurled it back across the room. 

David seemed to catch on, eyes lighting up as he ran to his bed to grab a pillow and throw it at Rachel. They had this one last night together, just the three of them and Patrick, before Rachel’s life changed forever and for the better. Amidst all the giggles and swatting each other with pillows, she reached down to grab the parchment Alexis had left discarded on her pillow, intrigued by the mystery of its contents, and stuffed it into the bodice of her dress. Their laughter rang out, echoing off the thin walls of the cottage, radiating sheer joy. 

Never before had Rachel felt this happy. Now all she needed was to have Twyla as her wife.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Facts from Shakespeare:
> 
> -"walk blindly into a bear trap" is my feeble attempt to reference the stage direction "exit, pursued by a bear" from A Winter's Tale
> 
> -"thoughts ripe in mischief" is a line from Twelfth Night
> 
> (but I mostly spent this act indulging in my love of flowers)


	4. Act 4

Ronnie and Moira had been hard at work in the field for some time; Ronnie had been on barbecue duty whilst Moira supervised the layout of the picnic tables. Everyone would be joining them shortly, and each jazzagal had insisted on bringing a different side. Everyone was pitching in to make the wedding a truly spectacular day, even if this was only a rehearsal dinner. Alexis sat cross legged at one of the picnic tables, hoping the warm evening air would help evaporate the tears streaking her face. She watched as Stevie helped Ronnie at the grill. Stevie’s proximity to the hot barbecue had prompted her to strip off her blazer and roll up the sleeves of her plaid button down. Stevie brushed her hair over the front of one shoulder, allowing the back of her neck to breathe. Alexis longed to be the one to do that, to brush aside her hair, to drop the ghost of a kiss to the nape of her neck.

That was a new thought, and Alexis didn’t know what to make of it. She felt warmth bloom in her cheeks and took a sudden interest in the grass. Besides, she had to keep an eye out for a carrier pigeon for confirmation from Heather— her goat’s cheese would pair excellently with the fruit wine her mother had selected. 

Moira sat lounging on a picnic table, probing David and Rachel for updates on the shop. Rachel had since changed out of her dress and into simple jeans and a cardigan. She spoke animatedly about the sunflower bouquets she and Patrick had made that morning, and David’s attempts to craft a glass piece of the same flower in a bell jar that Alexis had accidentally smashed that afternoon. Alexis loved listening to her siblings talk about their respective crafts so passionately. They talked over one another, going on tangents, their words swirling through the conversation like concentric circles. They were fortunate to have Patrick to take note of their myriad of thoughts, or so many good ideas would have slipped through the cracks. Although Patrick wasn’t taking notes now; he was on his way home to retrieve his guitar. Alexis looked on as her smiling siblings exchanged words with their mother, who was encouraging them to guess which of her many ensembles she would wear to officiate the wedding in a few short days.

Alexis turned back toward the barbecue, more than ready to start eating, when she saw Twyla walking down the path, lips pursed in concentration. Jocelyn followed behind her, shoulders hunched and eyes focused on the ground. The sun followed Twyla like a golden halo, but upon closer inspection it seemed as though she’d been crying.

“There you are!” Ronnie exclaimed, silently handing over grilling responsibilities to Stevie. “Who is ready to eat and be merry?” She winked, in good spirits.

Twyla’s voice shook. “I’d actually like to talk to Rachel in private, if that’s okay.”

Alexis looked back at her sister. Rachel smiled softly back at Twyla, but her eyes remained guarded and confused. David was also looking between them, eyebrows raised with worry.

Jocelyn piped up with a small and unreadable smile. “Actually I think maybe it’s best we have this conversation out in the open. With all the Roses present.”

Twyla sighed and looked to the sky for answers. She then looked to Moira, face overcome with hurt. 

“Ms. Rose, can you think of any reason why I shouldn’t marry your daughter?”

Moira set down her wine glass, which signified to Alexis that this conversation was headed in a serious direction. “I’m not sure what you mean, dear. Surely if there is any inward impediment as to why you should not be conjoined, it would be discussed with civility. Could you extrapolate on what seems to be the trouble?”

Twyla turned to her fiancée, shoulders pinned back. “Rachel?”

Rachel opened her mouth clearly struggling to find the right words and failing, as she could only shake her head. 

Twyla reached into the pocket of her cardigan, producing a twice-folded piece of white parchment. “I was helping Jocelyn put the room back in order after the Jazzagals rehearsal, and came across this little form. It’s a termination of residency in The Creek, written in your hand.”

Alexis felt herself clap a hand to her mouth. She hadn’t had the slightest inkling that Rachel was planning on leaving them. And without notice?! If anything, Alexis felt that _she_ was the more likely of the Rose siblings to strike off on her own.

“Twyla, that sounds rather alarming,” Moira whispered in a low, cautious voice. 

Twyla shrugged, looking down at the contents of the page she was still keeping from view. “I thought so too, but it was also attached to a lease transfer. She wants to give Rosewood to David.” 

Alexis saw David’s eyes widen as he shook his head violently. Clearly he was just as taken aback as Alexis by this news. How was any of this true? Who could be playing such a cruel trick on their family? Rachel scrambled up from the picnic table, rushing to Twyla. When she put a hand on her love’s cheek, Twyla practically flinched. Alexis hugged her knees; it was painful to watch, and it stung that Rachel seemed to have kept this secret.

“Twyla what’s wrong?” Rachel whispered, “I’ve never told you otherwise. Do you really believe a piece of paper over me?”

Twyla shook her head, eyes trained to the ground. The moment was almost too private for Alexis—or anyone else—to witness. She looked back to her mother, who had slinked over to stand beside Ronnie, seeking comfort from her companion.

“Veronica, what do you make of this?”

Ronnie’s arms were crossed, her face was clouded in suspicion, verging on anger. “I don’t believe it. Twyla, where did you find those papers?”

Twyla blinked up at Ronnie, gently tearing herself out of Rachel’s vicinity. Rachel had grown pale, and was having a hard time keeping her balance. She was most likely growing faint, the poor thing. 

“In one of the desk drawers at town hall,” Twyla frowned, holding out the letter to Ronnie. 

Before Rachel could so much as glance at the pages, Ronnie snatched it from Twyla’s outstretched hands. “This is impossible, Rachel signed on to the Business Association at the party last night.”

“Yeah but the party didn’t go _all_ night,” Jocelyn piped up. She smiled as if she was the bearer of the most joyous news. “And who knows what she was really thinking, given that heavy charm David used?”

David’s eyebrows threaded together while Ronnie shook her head and marched out of the field without a word. She gripped the paper firmly in her hand, the gentle sound of parchment fluttering as it sliced through the air. 

Moira’s lip quivered and she and the rest of the Roses stared dumbfounded at Ronnie’s retreating form. Alexis pulled herself up from the table, moving to stand beside her shell of a sister. 

“I should go,” Twyla sighed, wiping her eyes. “You should be able to have a nice, peaceful dinner with your family before you leave.” She smiled sadly at Rachel before Jocelyn put an arm around her shoulders and guided her away, towards the pathway. Rachel seemed too stunned to move, unable to call Twyla back.

Alexis held onto Rachel fiercely, feeling her shake like a leaf. “You okay, Rach?” she whispered in her ear. Rachel seemed to be having a hard time keeping her eyes open, and suddenly Alexis felt her go limp in her arms. As Rachel sunk to the ground, Stevie and David hurried to her side.

“Is she okay?” Stevie whispered. She was still hanging onto the barbecue tongs, the idiot.

Alexis cast a judging glance towards Stevie’s hands. “Obviously not,” she snapped at her, immediately regretting the icy words. But Stevie looked back at her with care and concern, the tongs promptly discarded into the grass. She was quite literally willing to drop anything for the Roses.

She looked to her brother, whose face was clouded with worry, wanting to assure him that everything would be okay. It would only be a moment before she could get them to the safety and comfort of their room. Based on the strong tug in her stomach, she knew she had the magical strength to take everyone with her.

All Alexis had to do was focus on where she felt called to. It was once a coping mechanism during hostage situations: creating escape routes and safe houses, if only imaginary. Now, amidst the fairy-dusted woods and waters, Alexis had become more powerful than ever before. She tuned into the pulsing of The Creek beneath her feet, and replayed the images of Stevie and her siblings in her head. It truly took all of a second- she might have to have a day’s worth of sleep afterwards, but all anyone else ever felt was a dull popping in the ears.

“What was that??” Stevie exclaimed, suddenly tripping and falling backwards onto David’s bed.

Alexis sighed and went to lay Rachel down on her cot. “I can go wherever I feel needed, but I rarely take people with me. How do you think I get everywhere so fast?“ 

“Kids! There you are!” A clamouring voice interrupted Alexis’s explanation. Stevie didn’t have time to ask her any more questions as Moira strode in through the front door, eyes wild. The door slammed behind her. “Rachel, how dare you keep this piece of colossally important information from your own mother?! How was I to know that my first-born intended to galavant off into the night without me? Do you have any idea the _shame_ I would have had to live with, knowing my own child had deserted me in this desolate wasteland??” Moira paced throughout her monologue, voice shrill. 

“Ms. Rose,” Stevie reasoned, stepping in front of her. “I believe Rachel. She was of sound mind when she signed the agreement with Ronnie. Her mask was off and everything.” Stevie’s voice was steady. Her ability to tame Moira’s wild thoughts came from years of experience managing the family. 

“Oh thank God,” David whispered, collapsing onto the cot beside an unconscious Rachel. His hand reached out to absently pet at her hair. 

Moira glanced manically back and forth between each of them as Rachel slowly came to, curling into her brother’s side. Although the documents Twyla presented had the largest negative impact on Rachel, their entire family seemed to be at a loss, unsure of what to do. Someone had to have plotted against them, for there was no way Rachel would sabotage her own happy ending. Whose faults were written in the stars?

“Okay,” Alexis muttered to herself, quickly devising a plan. “Okay I know what we’re going to do. You,” she pointed to her mother and gently coaxed her to the adjoining room. You are going to sit in the wardrobe and calm down for a hot second.” Moira whimpered while Alexis forcibly pushed her through the doorway. Then she spun on her heel to face Stevie and her older siblings.

“Twyla has more clout than all of us, so chances are most people in this town are going to side with her. We need to pull a sympathy card if we want to keep a shred of our dignity.” She looked into David and Rachel’s fearful eyes, clapping her hands together and putting on her super professional Girl Boss face. “Season 5 Episode 17 of Sunrise Bay, Vivian Blake fakes her own drowning to escape the murder trial of her third cousin. So. Here’s what we’re going to do,” Alexis said, her tone no-nonsense. “We need to gain some sympathy, let everyone feel sorry for us instead of thinking we’re just running away from this town. So...” She drew in a breath, knowing that her next words were not going to go over well, but were the crux of her plan. “We are going to pretend that Rachel is dead.” The gasps of her siblings and Stevie were unsurprising, and she plowed on with her plan. “David will take Rachel to a spa in Elmdale for a couple days. You can both relax and take your mind off things while Patrick watches the store. We’ll just tell everyone she’s drowned and it’s impossible to scout out the exact location. Okay? Okay.” 

Stevie raised her hand. “What do you want me to do?” Alexis couldn’t help but notice that it seemed as though she was hanging on Alexis’s every word.

Alexis sliced a hand through the air and pointed a finger back at Stevie. “Not yet. You’re part two.” Stevie leaned back at the sudden gesture, but she obediently shut her mouth and awaited her orders. 

Stevie stayed put on the bed while Alexis moved fluidly throughout the room to help David and Rachel pack their bags. Compared to the harried packing during the Rose family’s upheaval from their former lives of luxury, this was a delicate and well-choreographed ballet. As Alexis guided both her siblings to the door, she noticed a private look between David and Rachel. Though no words were spoken aloud, she knew her brother was saying _I believe you._

She wished them well as she pushed them out under the indigo night sky, bound for the stables. They would ride through the night so as not to be noticed by curious townspeople. 

Alexis walked quickly back into the room, shaking out her hands. She threw herself onto her bed, then covered her face with her hands and emitted a low groan. Apparating three additional bodies into the room, single handedly solving a family tragedy, and regretting every last argument she’d ever had with Stevie, made her want to sleep for a year. She could feel the tears that were leaking out of her eyes trickle through her fingers, and heard Stevie slide off David’s bed to curl up on the worn carpet next to Alexis’s bed.

“Alexis are you crying?” She heard Stevie ask in a low, tentative voice. Alexis couldn’t bear the thought of opening her eyes to look at her. She wiped her eyes and flopped her arms on her bed, still avoiding Stevie. “Yes, and I’m going to keep crying until I feel better.”

“Well I wish you wouldn’t, but you are pretty when you cry,” Stevie whispered. Alexis whipped her head around to face her. Stevie cleared her throat. “You know I mean it when I said there’s no way Rachel signed those? I believe her. One hundred percent.” 

“I do too,” Alexis whispered, frozen in place. “Twy has made her so happy. I wish someone looked at me that way, you know?” 

She watched Stevie let go of the tight grip she had on her knees. “Alexis?” Stevie looked tentatively up at her with those shiny brown eyes. Alexis didn’t dare speak, fearing her words might begin another argument.

“I love nothing in the world so well as you. Strange, huh?”

Alexis sniffed and dragged the sleeve of her cardigan over her nose, too overwhelmed to directly answer Stevie’s sentiment. “What’s strange is that I’ve been crying for the past two days. I think both you and my sister’s wedding has something to do with that.”

Stevie smirked, daring to scoot closer to Alexis’s bed. “So you were crying about me?”

“Was not!” Alexis shot back, but her heart wasn’t in it. It only made Stevie chuckle, and the corner of Alexis’s lip turned up at the sight. “Okay fine, maybe I was. But it was only because I thought we hated each other.”

Stevie shook her head. She wore the biggest smile Alexis had ever seen, and tears had slowly started to track down her cheeks. “I thought we did too,” Stevie whispered.

Alexis pushed herself up on an elbow and dried her eyes. She tentatively reached out to run her fingers through Stevie’s hair, something Alexis realized she’d been wanting to do for a long time. She gently pulled the soft strands toward herself. 

Stevie wordlessly followed and lifted her chin to meet Alexis. Their lips found each other softly, both of their tears mixing together. But she couldn’t have Stevie crying, so Alexis pulled away to reach out and brush a gentle hand across Stevie’s cheekbone. Alexis felt her face twist into an unfamiliar shape; a secret, loving smile that seemed to be only for Stevie. She felt Stevie lean into her outstretched hand and kiss her forearm. 

“Alexis, what can I do to help?” Stevie asked, low and even.

Alexis’s eyes darkened as she swung her legs over the bed to sit up properly. Time to get back to business. “Burn down the cafe.” She said with the utmost confidence.

Stevie nearly laughed. “You can’t be serious.”

Alexis bit her lips, tying her hair in a top knot. “Season 21 Episode 1, Vivian Blake is body swapped with her evil twin who starts a house fire on her Malibu beach house. It’s the best known way to get revenge.” 

Stevie stumbled to her feet, shocked. “Burn it down?! This is your future sister in-law you’re talking about getting revenge on.” 

All Alexis saw was red. After all, blood ran thicker than creek water. “Yep. The same person who believed a fucking piece of paper over my sister’s words. And by the looks of things, she definitely cancelled the wedding” She shook her head, eyes boring holes into the carpet. Her insides felt broken. “I can’t bear to see Rachel hurt like this.”

“Committing arson on my friend’s business is _not_ what I thought you had in mind,” Stevie said bluntly.

But Alexis was already headed towards Moira’s room, mind made up. “Don’t worry, my mom will help you.” She stopped, hand on the door knob, and looked back to Stevie. “Those papers just put the entire town against my family, Stevie. So whose side are you on?” 

They stared at each other for a minute, neither able to move. This wasn’t the same face off they’d had time and time again. Now, both their hearts were fully in it, and she needed Stevie to make a decision.

***

Ronnie was alone at the town hall, going through the contents of each desk drawer by candlelight. When she had seen the papers Twyla presented at the barbecue, she knew right away that Rachel hadn’t signed them. She had accepted Ronnie’s offer to join the Business Association the night before almost instantly, holding the pen with the utmost confidence. There was no way someone as introspective and thoughtful as Rachel would turn around and change her mind in less than twenty four hours. 

By now, three of the four desks had been fully pulled apart. She didn’t have what she was looking for, she didn’t exactly _know_ what she was looking for, but there was something about the handwriting on Twyla’s forms that looked oddly familiar. Rachel’s cursive _e_ was much more full and loopy than the flat, tight letter she’d seen on the termination paper.

They _really_ needed to get a better filing system.

Ronnie thumbed through the papers on top of the fourth desk, her frustration accidentally sending a rogue page fluttering to the floor. She grumbled, leaning over to pick it up. “ _Notice of Business Foreclosure,”_ she read the form’s contents under her breath, “ _Blouse Barn_.” Ronnie’s mouth fell open as she held up the two pieces of parchment to compare.

“Nice try, Kurtz.” She announced to the empty room. Ronnie had a few things to take care of. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Facts from Shakespeare:
> 
> -"The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars / But in ourselves, that we are underlings." (Julius Caesar, Act 1 Scene 3)
> 
> -Rachel's "drowning" is borrowed from Ophelia in Hamlet


	5. Act 5

The residents of The Creek had been lulled to sleep by the sound of crickets. The sky was black and still, and the pale full moon gently washed over the town. Every few minutes there was a flutter of carrier pigeons, arriving at the windows of dwellings with handwritten news.

_That’s irregular_ , Ronnie had thought on her ride back into town. But if there was one destined for her, she’d have to attend to it later; she had business to take care of. Her spare keys jingled softly as she walked down the empty street and quietly opened the door to the cafe. A dull thud came from the kitchen. Perhaps Twyla’s enchantment was still in effect.

“Would you let go of me please?” Wendy whispered sharply from behind Ronnie, where Patrick was forcibly guiding her and Gwen up the steps. 

Ronnie turned around to glare at Patrick as he led the women through the doorway. “Brewer, let them go. I only asked you to come because we couldn’t risk them getting away on their own horses,” She crossed her arms, unimpressed. Patrick bit his tongue and dragged two chairs to the centre of the room. Ronnie took the time to light a single lamp from one of the booths, then nodded towards the chairs. “Sit,” she commanded. Wendy and Gwen shuffled forward apprehensively. 

Patrick grabbed another chair and planted it directly in front of Wendy and Gwen, but Ronnie picked her foot up and placed it down on the seat before he could sit. He opted for hovering behind her instead, hands forcibly shoved into the pockets of his overalls. She would never admit it to him, but they made a good team. Ronnie leaned over onto her knee, staring the two accomplices down. 

“Want to tell me what’s going on?” Ronnie asked flatly. Of course, she already had a pretty good idea, but she wanted to see them shake in their boots. 

Wendy cowered in her chair, the wooden frame squeaking as she squirmed uncomfortably under Ronnie’s piercing glare. “I’m sorry, is this about taking home the leftover Nanaimo bars last night? Because that was my Tupperware. Jocelyn was supposed to give it back to me, and I figured a few leftover treats was a small price to pay.”

“Tell us the truth, Wendy!” Patrick cut in. Ronnie instantly put her hand up, shushing him. 

“It was all her,” Gwen looked to her partner in crime. “I was there when she brought the papers to Jocelyn.”

Wendy’s jaw dropped in betrayal. “I was only doing what she asked of me! I was doing it out of kindness for a friend.”

“Yeah. A friend that paid you,” Gwen muttered. A small rush of air came whispering from the kitchen. Was Twyla keeping ghosts in there?

“Okay, it was a big fucking check.” Wendy admitted guiltily. “But Gwen made sure to make a mess of every last file at the town—“ 

Wendy’s deflection was interrupted by the swing of the cafe door, and gentle footsteps on the burlap doormat. Twyla had arrived in her evening cloak, carrying a lantern, a bewildered look on her face. “I—I was taking an evening walk and I saw there was a light on. What’s happening?” 

Patrick walked over to Twyla and placed a gentle hand on her back. “Rachel was framed. Jocelyn had the papers forged.” Ronnie watched as Twyla took notice of Wendy and Gwen’s presence, and put the puzzle pieces together. 

“Falsely accuse my fiancée? Why would Jocelyn do that?” Twyla shook her head, voice barely above a whisper. Even in the low light of the lamp, Ronnie could see that her eyes appeared bloodshot and glassy. The poor girl had probably done enough crying today. 

Gwen and Wendy attempted to stammer out excuses as the cafe door opened yet again. Ronnie turned around, squinting in the lamplight.

“Moira? What on earth are you doing here?” Amidst all of her detective work, Ronnie had forgotten to tell her partner of her whereabouts. Clad in elegant black robes, Moira stopped just inside the door, staring dumbfounded at everyone. Within a moment, she rushed into the comfort of Ronnie’s arms. There was something about the way Moira’s gaze darted around that made Ronnie feel unsettled. 

Moira sniffed, then her face crumpled. “I’m so sorry my dears, we ran out of tea. I simply couldn’t quell this green and yellow melancholy I carry without—“ she cut herself off with a sob, and brought her handkerchief up to her eye. Ronnie stared back at her blankly. Was she really this emotionally distraught from the wedding being called off? “I’m sure you all caught word of my first born’s untimely demise.”

Ronnie gasped— along with everyone else in the room. Moira collapsed into Ronnie’s chair, choking in a sob.

“My poor bébé girl went to the waterfront to wash away her tumultuous afternoon,” Moira clutched her chest and took a shaky breath. “When she slipped and walloped her cranium. On an—on—” Another sob. “An errant boulder. Did you not receive the news from the birds Alexis sent out a short while ago?” Her gaze seemed to bore through them all, giving the perfect thousand-mile stare, worthy of the direst of _Sunrise Bay_ cliffhangers. Ronnie wrapped Moira up in her arms and whispered condolences in her ear. Everyone was taken aback by the news. In all likelihood, they all had carrier pigeons bearing the bad news waiting for them at their respective homes, as they had all been riding together, bringing Gwen and Wendy back from Elmdale. 

Ronnie watched as Twyla inched her way towards them, hands covering her mouth. “Ms. Rose, this is my fault,” her voice was steady, though wrapped in guilt and grief. “If I hadn’t believed what was written on those stupid papers, this wouldn’t have happened. I am so deeply sorry.” Twyla clutched her chest.

“As much as I appreciate your words, Twyla,” Moira sighed, her voice low and heavy. “The show must go on.”

“What show?” Twyla pleaded.

Moira looked back at her with a face of stone. “This town was promised a wedding, and I still have a daughter who is eligible to marry. Therefore, you and Alexis shall join in matrimony. It shall be held at the cottage, _tomorrow_.”

A second collective gasp echoed into the rafters of the cafe, followed by the curious clanging of pans, again from the kitchen. Ronnie watched Twyla slowly back out of the room, stunned, before shuffling towards the front door and taking off into a run. Patrick ran out only a second behind her. The door was left swinging idly, then came a gentle thud of what sounded like a window frame. 

Ronnie turned towards the foreign sound, mind racing. “What the fuck is happening in the kitchen?” 

***

Stevie ran as fast as her legs would carry her. Climbing out a cafe window was not something she’d ever seen herself doing. And she’d done it twice today! She had come to hide in the cafe in an attempt to gather her thoughts. She’d sat and she’d thought and she’d let the gentle hum of the crickets in the field behind the cafe soothe her troubled mind. It wasn’t so much strategy as it was trying to absorb everything that had unfolded within the last few hours. Twyla’s accusation. Alexis coming to the rescue. Alexis _kissing_ her, then telling her to choose a side. The Roses certainly spun tales of impossible things, but had never asked her to do something to harm such a friend as Twyla. 

Stevie had stared at the jug of gasoline she’d brought with her from the shed, shrouded in darkness as she sat under the kitchen sink. On paper, it was a simple task: dump it all, strike a match, and then run for the hills. That was the plan. But she couldn’t do it. Yes, she loved Alexis and the urge to do as she’d asked was strong. But Alexis’s plan would mean doing harm to Twyla, and Stevie wasn’t sure she could live with herself if she carried through with it. 

But now, after overhearing Ronnie’s interrogation of Gwen and Wendy, and her subsequent conversation with Twyla, it seemed like all of their problems were solved. Ronnie had found the culprits, and Rachel was absolved. The only remaining obstacle was Moira’s commitment to the fake news of Rachel’s death getting in the way, because now _Alexis_ was supposed to marry Twyla. So perhaps not _all_ of their problems were solved. She finally arrived in front of the Rose’s cottage door, winded from her run from the centre of town. Why hadn’t she just taken a horse? She banged frantically on the door as she wheezed and tried to force air into her lungs. 

“What?!” To her surprise, it was David who appeared in the door frame rather than a beautifully distressed Alexis.

“I thought. You took. Rachel. Spa.” She heaved out a breath and leaned a hand on the door frame for support. “Where’s Alexis?”

David rolled his eyes. “So maybe I forgot my wallet and keys and had to leave Rachel at the spa. What do you need Alexis for?” His words were steel, eyes full of suspicion.

“Is that Stevie?” She heard from inside the room. Alexis appeared behind her brother in soft pink pyjamas, and pulled him back into the room. “Did you do it?” she asked, eyes wide and hopeful.

“Do what?!” David waved his hands in the air, earning an eye roll from Alexis.

“Keep up, David!” Alexis pushed through the door frame, slamming the door in David’s face. 

She stepped underneath the lamp hung above the door, which cast soft shadows on her face. She took Stevie’s face in her hands gently, but her eyes were pleading. “Did you do it?” She repeated, voice softer than before.

Out of the corner of her eye, Stevie could see David had opened the curtains a fraction to peek at them through the bedroom window. She wondered how much Alexis had told him. Hell, she wondered how much he already knew. 

“I couldn’t. There were people in the cafe,” Stevie rushed to get the words out. “And when your mom finally got there it was too late and—“

Alexis shook her head in confusion and crossed her arms. Stevie longed to feel Alexis’s hands on her face again. “Twyla closed it for the barbecue, why would there be people in there?”

“Ronnie came in with—“

“Why was _Ronnie_ away from my mom? Today was not her day to take a selfish!”

“Alexis, listen to me—“

“Stevie, what happened?” Stevie could see Alexis’s exasperation in the shaking hands that nervously tugged and combed through her hair. She wanted to take them in hers and kiss her wrists. She wanted to tell Alexis everything would be alright, but first she had to break the news that Alexis was betrothed. _To the wrong person._

She stepped bravely into Alexis’s space and reached out to hold her by the waist, thumbs absentmindedly soothing over the silk of her pyjamas. Alexis’s face softened at the touch, if only slightly.

She opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the sound of hooves cantering on the road, coming steadily closer. Though the sky was now pitch black, the pale skin of the rider automatically gave away their identity.

“Alexis,” Patrick called, bringing his horse to stop. Stevie didn’t have to look back at the window to know David was watching intently. “I just helped Ronnie bring in Wendy and Gwen. Rachel’s papers were forged.”

Alexis gasped. “I knew it.”

Patrick sighed, gracefully sliding off his horse. “Well, there’s more. Your mom happened to arrive on the scene, and said _you_ would marry Twyla instead!” 

“What?!” Alexis stumbled in her slippered feet. 

Patrick frowned and shoved his hands into the depths of his pockets. “I’m so sorry to hear about Rachel,” he added. 

Alexis hit Stevie’s arm, emotionally distraught. “Why didn’t you tell me? Is that why you couldn’t burn it down?”

“I was _trying_ to!” Stevie exasperatedly shot back.

Patrick scratched his head and looked between the two of them, confused. “What is happening here?”

Alexis sighed. “Rachel’s not dead,” Patrick’s eyes widened in shock, but Alexis continued smoothly. “And now apparently I’m engaged.” The tone of her voice was annoyed, but the look she gave to Stevie was filled with nothing but apology. “It’s okay. I can fix this.”

Stevie looked to Alexis and waited for her to reveal the next turn in the operatic plot she was weaving, hoping for a resolution that would see them all settled happily with their chosen partner, and a happy ending for all. A carrier pigeon came through the darkness, fluttering up to the bedroom window. The bird cooed as the pane creaked open. David popped his head out, scroll in hand. 

“We’ll get Rachel here first thing tomorrow.” His eyes were soft and his smile was kind. 

Stevie moved instinctively for Alexis and wrapped her arms around her middle, burying her face in Alexis’s side. She felt Alexis’s strong arms squeeze her shoulders and her cheek press into her hair. If they could just stay like this for a little longer, maybe everything would be okay.

***

Twyla sat on a low hanging branch and watched the creek water trickle in the moonlight. She had come down to the creek after Ms. Rose had given news of Rachel. If only Ronnie had captured Gwen and Wendy in time to uncover their treachery sooner. If only that knowledge had been passed to Rachel before she decided to go to the water. If only Twyla had just believed Rachel in the first place.

The bark was cool underneath Twyla’s fingers, the air noticeably still. Tiny dots of purple, yellow, and white floated down the stream; rue and pansies. Twyla watched as some got stuck near the shore, gently controlled by the current. Rachel must’ve brought flowers down to the water’s edge with her, for Twyla had never seen someone bring so much beauty to The Creek.

Her limbs were heavy with grief and regret, knowing that she was at fault for automatically believing what was on those damned papers. She was responsible for the loss of Rachel, and Twyla would carry that guilt with her for the rest of her days. But there was a wedding she had to get ready for. Even if it wasn’t to the Rose daughter of her choosing, she had to make amends and right her wrongs. She told herself it was what was best for The Creek. 

With no tears left to cry, she rose from her perch in the tree. Twyla wrapped her cloak snugly around herself, mostly for warmth, but also wishing it could be Rachel’s arms. She held on tightly, willing herself to put one foot in front of the other and head back to her home. Tomorrow would be a new day.

***

The next morning was full of clear blue skies, fresh air, and new beginnings. The cottage came alive slowly, but with an earlier start than usual. Rachel had ridden back into town as the sun had risen, and was now being fussed over by her siblings in the office. Stevie watched Rachel take long sips of strong coffee while she pulled a few volumes off her bookshelf; just a few optional passages for Moira to read during the ceremony. It must’ve taken the ride back to The Creek for Rachel to process all that had happened in the past twenty four hours. She seemed to be at peace, sitting by the hearth while Alexis and David worked together on pinning and twisting her hair. She was going to make a beautiful bride. _Twyla’s_ bride.

Moira had begun pacing again, busy reviewing her officiant’s script, when Rachel broke her out of her pre-show ritual.

“Mom?”

Moira froze in place. Even though Moira’s back was to her, Stevie could sense that she was overcome with Rachel’s bridal beauty, for she was truly breathtaking. “Yes, my darling?” Her voice was practically floating.

Rachel took another sip of coffee. Stevie guessed she hadn’t slept much the night before. “Can you run through this plan one more time?” She could hear the exhaustion in Rachel’s voice.

“Both of you shall cover your faces and walk veiled down the aisle,” Moira explained wearily, as though this was the seventieth time she had retold the plot of _Sunrise Bay_ season 9 episode 20 this morning. “When you answer to my cue, you shall reveal your—“

Moira’s instructions were interrupted by a knock at the office door. Stevie felt her face contort with worry, frantically gesturing for Moira to hurry up. Moira’s eyes flew open and she rushed her kids out the back door, taking a little-known path to their room. David was somehow nimble enough to continue pinning Rachel’s hair as they shuffled out the back door. Alexis, clad in a white gown as ordered by her mother, glanced back at Stevie before she exited through the doorway. It was a look of pain and anticipation, a look that simultaneously said _I hope this works_ and _I love you, you idiot._

Stevie peeled her eyes away from the back door as Moira opened the one in the front. Ronnie stepped into the room. She’d traded her usual shirt and trousers in muted colours for a sparkling dress. She looked dazzling, and gazed back at Moira with pride and affection. Twyla was just behind her in a white lace jumpsuit, wearing what Stevie knew to be a forced smile. Stevie only wished that the Roses would take the honest route and tell her of Rachel’s return. A small sliver of jealousy churned in her stomach, knowing that Twyla thought she was to marry Alexis today. Even though Stevie knew it wasn’t true—Twyla would not marry Alexis today—she couldn’t help the jealousy that rose within her, green and monstrous. 

“We ready for this?” Ronnie beamed, looking between them all.

Moira kissed Ronnie’s cheek. “You two proceed. I must stay behind with Stevie to finalize my poetry selections.” She gestured over to Stevie’s humble stack of leather-bound volumes. 

Ronnie nodded and put a hand on the door, while Stevie snuck Twyla a hasty thumbs up. What else was she supposed to do? She grabbed the first volume on the stack, and made her way to Moira.

Stevie handed over the book with confidence, the bookmark placed on the twenty-eighth page. “It’s this one, I can feel it,” she smiled up at Ms. Rose. 

Moira slowly raised her eyebrows as she took the book, not taking her eyes off Stevie. “What is it dear?” She asked in a low, uncharacteristically soft voice.

“Ms. Rose,” Stevie cleared her throat. “If this all goes to plan...” Moira nodded at her to continue, “One day I should hope to marry Alexis.”

“And you will,” Moira answered simply with the utmost confidence, as if she had known about Alexis and Stevie all along. “Shall we?” She nodded towards the door. 

Stevie guided Moira out the office and towards the field. Though the set up wasn’t as elaborate as Rachel had originally envisioned, Ronnie had tasked Wendy and Gwen with decorating for the ceremony as part of their community service. Jocelyn was nowhere to be found, but something told her the day might go more smoothly if she stayed hidden from the family she had tried to sabotage. Simple white and yellow flowers lined the aisle of chairs. Birds chirped amongst the excited chatter of the townspeople. At the sight of Moira’s arrival, Patrick and Tennessee began a heartfelt duet on guitar and violin. With the Jazzagals director missing in action, their beautifully simple melodies provided the perfect alternative on such short notice. Somehow, everything had magically come together.

David appeared at Stevie’s side, smiling in draping white silk. He offered her his arm and they walked together in perfect step to meet Moira at the makeshift pulpit. Stevie went to stand beside Twyla, and David took his place on the other side of his mother. Heads turned back towards the pathway, awaiting the bride-to-be. But just as planned, instead of the bride, two women in white gowns and veils walked down the aisle. Stevie saw the confusion on Twyla’s face out of the corner of her eye.

When the two women arrived at the end of the aisle, Twyla somehow managed to find her voice before Moira’s welcome address.

“I’m so sorry, I’m just a little confused.” Twyla blushed, sheepish. “Who am I supposed to be marrying today?”

Enraptured silence descended upon the townspeople. The shorter of the veiled figures pulled off her veil, letting the chiffon float to the grass, revealing red hair and sparkling eyes. 

“Rachel?” Twyla’s hand came up to her mouth. She froze, eyes wide, a shockwave seeming to run through her body. 

Rachel looked back up at Twyla. Gone were the sunken and tired features that had clouded her beautiful face when she returned home earlier that morning. The smile that graced her face was full of wonder, hope, and forgiveness for the misunderstandings of the day before. Stevie watched Rachel reach out to Twyla, her engagement ring glinting in the high sun. “Marry me, Twy?” 

With matching gasps of pure joy and relief, they fell into one another’s arms, swaying gently back and forth and whispering words of love into one another’s ear. The townspeople erupted in raucous cheers and applause. On the other side of the altar, Stevie could see David brush away a tear from his face with a subtle flick of his wrist. As the applause died down, Stevie remembered her cue.

Her delivery was light and choppy, what a former soap star might categorize as under rehearsed. 

“But who is the second bride?” She asked Moira and the crowd. 

Alexis slowly peeled off her veil and stepped toward the audience to take a bow. She was met by a tentative and confused applause before she made her way over to Stevie.

“Are we having a double wedding?” Ronnie called from the front row. A ripple of laughter went through the assembled guests.

“Oh no, no,” Alexis spoke loudly over the murmur of voices. Her wrists flopped delicately as her hands danced their way to an answer. “Today is Rachel and Twyla’s day. We are all here to celebrate them. I will not be marrying anyone today, thank you very much.” 

Rachel smirked. “I disagree.” She looked between Stevie and Alexis. She reached into the bodice of her dress, eyebrows dancing. “Here is a love letter addressed to Stevie, which I found on Alexis’s pillow.”

The townspeople gasped and chuckled. Stevie had not seen this one coming, but she should’ve expected this. Only the Roses could come up with a plan such as this. Alexis’s eyes bulged out of their sockets, her cheeks flushing pink. Stevie couldn’t help but grin as she watched Alexis silently beg for her sister to shut up, while a grinning Rachel handed the slip of parchment to Stevie.

“And,” Twyla turned to face the audience and reached into her blazer. “This little paper was tucked into a book Stevie left at the cafe. A poem, written to one Alexis Rose.” 

Now it was Stevie’s turn to blush. In all that had happened yesterday, she’d forgotten to retrieve her book from the cafe floor. She’d forgotten she’d written that poem. But before she had time to panic, a look of affection washed over Alexis’s face, and she happily took the poem from Twyla’s outstretched hand. Alexis glanced down at the page in front of her, which prompted Stevie to do the same. Her hands were shaking so hard she could hardly read the words. Feeling everyone’s eyes on her, she focused her eyes on Alexis. 

The look on Alexis’s face as she gazed back at Stevie could only be described as pure love. And apparently the crowd agreed, as they breathed a collective sigh.

Alexis’s eyes darted back to their company. “Okay, we get it! We’re in love! Ugh! Can we please just get on with the wedding?”

Another chuckle ran through the townspeople, and then Moira took full command of the ceremony. It was beautiful; short and sweet, leaving not a dry eye amongst the assembled guests. Alexis held Stevie’s hand the entire time, a tether that kept them both in the present moment. Stevie basked in every touch, every look, from Alexis. When the ceremony was over, she offered her arm to her love and together they walked back down the aisle.

The entire town clapped and cheered for the newly married Rachel and Twyla. Stevie and Alexis followed the brides down the path. The plan was to gather with the Roses in the office for a private celebration before meeting everyone at the cafe for the official reception. But just as they stepped onto the main pathway back to the cottage, Stevie felt a familiar tug just behind her bellybutton. _Oh no._

She stumbled backwards on what she assumed would be the gravel pathway, but instead fell into tall and spindly grass. Her ears popped and then she heard Alexis’s laughter chime from beside her. Stevie stared at her surroundings, speechless, gold dust slowly drifting down around her, iridescence covering her suit.

“Are we in the fairy garden?” she sputtered, confused.

Alexis delicately sunk to the ground and reached out to boop Stevie on the nose. “I told you, I can go wherever I feel needed, silly.” Alexis looked alluringly up at Stevie through lowered lashes. 

“And?” Stevie raised a hopeful eyebrow.

Alexis’s gaze dropped to her knees before meeting Stevie’s eyes again. “It’s with you, Stevie. That’s where I need to be.” 

Stevie laughed, their entire history of overthinking and sniping exchanges instantly washed away. She pulled Alexis down into the grass beside her, their lips finally reuniting. They kissed and kissed as the sun shone above them, while the fairy dust floated around their bodies in a protective cloud. 

_Finally,_ Stevie thought to herself. 

_Finally._

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Facts from Shakespeare
> 
> -"green and yellow melancholy" (Twelfth Night, Act 2 Scene 4) is a body's experience of grief
> 
> -rue and pansies are some of the flowers Ophelia gives away before her death
> 
> -"Beware of jealousy, my lord! It's a green-eyed monster that makes fun of the victims it devours" (Othello, Act 3 Scene 3)
> 
> Thank you thank you THANK YOU for reading this labour of love!❤️ Here's the accompanying [mood board](https://www.pinterest.de/caitesparkles/elevate/) and [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/27DWYMOX6jkH6q6hJNNzXX?si=ENbhgjZdROWtipL4FJsZtg) for more ~vibes~
> 
> Find me on tumblr [@kindofspecificstore](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kindofspecificstore) if you want to chat or need help with your Shakespeare homework :P


End file.
